


Deadly Destiny

by MagicalQuillPower2100



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-07 11:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21457054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalQuillPower2100/pseuds/MagicalQuillPower2100
Summary: A boy with amnesia and, unknownst to him, special power finds himself thrust into the wizarding world and craziness ensues. He only wishes to remember his past, but fate has other ideas.This is an Alternate universe where Grindelwald is adamant that he have all three deathly hallows before battling Dumbledore. Everything changes from there.Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Kudos: 3





	1. The Quiet before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
> 
> First attempt at multi chapter story.

October 31, 1990

The boy opened his eyes to bright lightning flashes across a dark, cloudy sky and a sense of inexplicable terror. 

He sucked in a ragged gasp of air and sat up. A thunderous roar reverberated throughout the clearing. The pain followed a second later, smacking the front of his head like a club. The world swam around him in a blur. He grasped for simple facts: where he was, how he’d gotten here. Why he hurt. Why he could barely see. 

Nothing.

Shoving aside his confusion, he pushed himself to one knee with a grunt. The muggy air seemed to vibrate, but he couldn’t tell whether it was real or if he was imagining it. He squinted hard enough to make out the gray shape of a nearby building, and something vast and green behind it. 

What was this place?

A hand landed on his shoulder. With a cry of surprise, he turned and saw a blurry figure crouched beside him. It took a moment to unscramble what the person was shouting. 

“Who are you? How’d you get past the fence?”

Fence? He shook his head. The pain swelled, crowding everything else out, and he felt himself slipping away. 

“Help me.” he croaked, just before the blackness closed in.

“ Can you hear me? Wake up, boy!” 

He opened his eyes. The thunderstorm was gone - he was somewhere dim and quiet, breathing processed indoor air. A middle-aged woman leaned over him, studying his face. “ There you are.”

For a moment he struggled to form a slurred question. “Where am I?”

“I brought you inside. You’re safe. You’re in my orphanage.”

He stared at the pale, round-faced woman. Was this the same person who’d spoken to him outside? 

“Uh… Who are you?”

“Oh, pardon me. I’m Mrs. Cromwell, the matron of this orphanage. Now… Can you tell me who you are? Where did you come from?”

Letting the questions fly over his head, he looked past the Cromwell woman to take in his surroundings. He was lying on a bed, inside a small empty bedroom. The only light came through the open door. He turned his head to see what lay beyond the door, and winced as throbbing erupted in his forehead.

Mrs. Cromwell had crossed her arms as if she were waiting for something. Did he know this woman? He didn’t think so. His eyelids grew heavy and began to droop.

“No you don’t. Stay awake.” The woman reached down and slapped his cheek lightly, but she may as well have swung a hammer. Jagged bolts of pain caused a cry to escape his lips.

Mrs. Cromwell withdrew her hand quickly. “Goodness, me! What happened to you?” 

“What happened?” he repeated, looking for the answer himself. The confusion he’d felt outside started to rise again.

“Yes. What happened? How did you get through the fence?”

“Fence?”

Mrs. Cromwell shook her head in exasperation. “What is wrong with you, child?”

“Child?” He felt like a bleating idiot repeating everything, but it was as if his brain had shorted out. Why didn’t he know the answers to these questions? Why didn’t he know anything?

“Yes. You are a child... How old are you? Eight? Ten? You don’t look like you’re much older than ten.” Cromwell guessed shrewdly.

How old am I? “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Don’t know how old you are? Are you some kind of runaway?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Who are you?”

Who am I? He stared into Cromwell’s gray eyes, and his confusion began to twist into fear. “I don’t know,” he repeated a third time, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Cromwell’s face turned into a grimace. “You must’ve really gotten your brains scrambled. I’ll be right back.” She left the room and returned a minute later, thrusting a mirror into the boy’s face.

Wincing, the boy hoisted himself up on one elbow and grabbed the mirror with the other hand to steady it. His stomach plummeted and his heart began to race. A silver-haired ashen-faced stranger stared back at him from the mirror with wild eyes.

Panicking, he looked at Mrs. Cromwell who had her arms crossed with a smug look on her face. It wilted upon seeing his bewilderment.

“Still nothing?” she asked incredulous.

He numbly shook his head. She tutted. “Well then, I think you must have some form of amnesia. Even an idiot would be able to recognize their own reflection…” 

The boy visibly bristled at this, but said nothing.

Cromwell frowned, mind racing. “Alright then. I’ll see if I can find out more about your condition.” She made to leave the room before pausing at the doorway. She looked back to the pitiful boy. 

“You get some rest in the meantime, deary. Whatever happened to you must have been quite a traumatic ordeal.” 

He nodded his understanding, before falling back onto the pillow, unconscious once more. The tiny mirror clutched to his chest.

July 23, 1991

The boy was sitting on his bed engrossed in a magically adventurous tale when someone knocked on his door. He looked up from the book, absentmindedly bookmarking his spot. He set it aside just as the door opened.

Standing in the open doorway were Mrs. Cromwell and a tall, well dressed man. The boy raised an eyebrow in question as he turned his attention back to the matron.

“Varian, you have a visitor. This is Professor Riddle. He heard of your condition and wants to… well, I’ll let him explain.” 

Mrs. Cromwell nodded to the man, who inclined his head in acknowledgement, and left the room. The door clicked shut behind her. 

Alarmed, Varian jumped up from his bed quickly. At the same moment, the glass of water on his bedside table shattered. 

Time seemed to stand still as he and the professor watched the broken pieces hit the ground. 

Varian couldn’t believe it. Never, in the several months it has been since he arrived at the orphanage, had he felt anything like it. That man was no ordinary person.

From the moment the man stepped inside Varian’s room, he could feel it. There was a very powerful energy radiating from the man. While true, that he couldn’t see anything unusual about him, he could sense it. Like a sixth sense that he didn’t even know he had... until that moment. 

Varian grimaced. Why was it that whenever something happens, it always involved him?

The water started to drip over the table’s edge onto some of the broken shards and hard floor below.

Varian took a deep breath and braced himself for the other man’s reaction. He forced his gaze away from the mess and looked him straight in the eye, defiant. He waited - waited for the man to go into shock, to faint, to yell… to do something...

The man did nothing of the sort. He didn’t look shocked or frightened. In fact, his face seemed borderline amused. 

He frowned. It didn’t add up. Glass inexplicably shattering would scare any normal person into thinking the area was haunted... or that it was a scare tactic of a juvenile boy... but definitely not make said person smirk like it was a mere parlor trick.

Varian’s eyes widened when the man, this Professor Riddle, tilted his head slightly to the side and spoke at last.

“Cute. And here I was, thinking this would be a long, tedious, headache-inducing affair. I thank you for making this ordeal a bit more... entertaining.”

With a casual flick of the man’s wrist, the glass was repaired. If it weren’t for the spilled water as evidence, Varian might have believed it had never shattered in the first place. 

Varian shivered. His instincts were screaming at him to keep back, that the man before him was extremely dangerous.

But Varian was no coward. Summoning all his courage, he lifted his chin bravely and spoke.

“Why are you here? Exactly WHO are you? Did I - Do I know you?” Varian said in a rush, slipping up a bit at the end. His fingers curled into fists at his side. He refused to be intimidated.

The professor’s smile widened, “Straight to the point, huh? Alright.” He sat down on a chintz armchair- a chair that had certainly NOT been there a moment before, with an almost ethereal grace. 

Varian stared. The water glass incident was all but forgotten as the spilled water continued to drip to the floor. His body tensed, prepared for fight or flight at the slightest provocation. Adrenaline roared through his veins.

“Allow me to answer your question with a question.” Began the man slowly, eyes narrowing slightly as he cupped a hand to his chin thoughtfully. 

“Tell me… Varian…” he continued in a smooth, silky voice, “ What do you know… of magic?” 

Varian froze. His eyes betrayed him as he glanced toward the repaired water glass and back.

“Magic?” he said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. 

“Yes. Magic.” The man's eyes took on a curious glint as he awaited the boy’s reply.

“It is but an illusion of the mind and only exists in fairy tales.” Varian lied quickly, internally panicking. 

Magic. Magic is what repaired the glass and brought about the chair. It probably shattered the glass too, but what did this have to do with him? He was just Varian. A silver haired boy without a past, who mysteriously appeared on the orphanage’s front lawn. From inside the locked fence. 

Varian’s mouth felt as dry as a desert. He pulled himself together and dared to make eye contact with the stranger. 

One look into the rather handsome - no dangerous- man’s eyes, and he knew.

He was toast.

“I think we both know that you don’t really believe that, Varian.” the man said Varian’s name with relish as he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms in the process. 

“You are a wizard. As am I. Don’t lie to me again.” the last words came out sharp and warningly. “I always know when I am being lied to.” 

“Yes, s-sir.” Varian stammered, gaze dropping to the floor as his face flushed. “If you say so.” 

The reaction was instantaneous. 

The man quirked an eyebrow, and suddenly, Varian felt his feet fly out from under him and glue themselves to the ceiling. He yelped in shock. He tried twisting to the left and then to the right, but his feet wouldn’t budge. The professor merely smirked at his antics. 

The blood was beginning to rush to his face. Varian struggled to free himself. A few unsuccessful attempts later and he’d had enough. Giving up, he let his arms dangle. 

The wizard stood up from his chair slowly. He made his way towards Varian lazily, as though he had all the time in the world. Varian scowled.

When they were at eye level with each other, Riddle grinned sardonically. “I know so. The whole point of my being here is to inform you that you are a wizard, and should you accept, you can attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” 

Varian, face now cherry red from excessive blood flow, could only think of one intelligent response to that. 

“Oh. Okay. I... accept?” he ended questioningly. “Can you put me down now? Please? I’m sorry, alright! I’ll behave! I swear!” he pleaded, beginning to feel a bit dizzy and lightheaded.

The wizard rolled his eyes. 

Varian fell. He hit the ground with a cry of surprise.

“You whine too much.” Riddle complained. He rubbed his temples in soothing circles to temper the oncoming headache.

“Anyways... here is a list of things you need to get before coming, as well as instructions on where and how to get on the train. It leaves at 11 o’clock sharp, on the first of September. Don’t miss it.”

The wizard’s tone was dismissive as he held out a rather thick envelope that he seemingly pulled out of thin air.

Varian pushed himself back to his feet, shaking off the pain as he accepted the compacted envelope grudgingly and spoke, “I haven’t any money and you still haven’t answered some of my questions.”

The wizard sighed as though it were a big burden, before pulling out a small pouch from his pants pocket. He tossed it to Varian, who caught it deftly in his free hand. The bag made a little jingling noise as he did so. 

“That should cover expenses. As to your previous questions, I’m a Hogwarts professor and no, I don’t know you. I have seen a lot of children, but not one of them have had distinguishing silver hair like you. Is that all?” Riddle asked with a bite of impatience. 

“So this visit had absolutely nothing to do with my amnesia?” Varian asked, trying not to let his disappointment show.

“None.” 

Riddle took the silence as his cue to leave and made his way to the closed door. 

“Were my parents magical too?” Varian blurted out, last second. 

The wizard paused midstep. He looked back to Varian, one hand on the now open door. 

“No idea.” he said bluntly, with a shrug of his shoulders. Then shut the door behind him with a mundane finality, taking the feeling of powerful energy with him.

Varian just stood there. He looked at the closed door with mixed feelings in his chest. On the one hand, he learned some things about himself he didn’t know before. He was a wizard. A wizard who didn’t know what their real name was, or birthday for that matter, but a wizard nonetheless.

On the other hand, he was no closer to finding out about his parents. He didn’t know their names, if they were alive and searching for him, or dead...nothing. Varian turned away from the door, morosely. He moved over to his bed and sat down. 

Similar thoughts continued to plague his mind as he looked through the contents of the envelope and the money bag.

What kind of currency was this? He held up each different coin between his fingers. He had never seen anything like it. There were gold coins, silver, and bronze ones. He flipped the coins around a few times before putting them back in the bag.

His head began to throb painfully. He rubbed his forehead soothingly. Of course he would get a headache from freaking falling down on it earlier. He looked over the list of the items he needed more closely and felt his headache intensify a thousandfold.

Where the heck would he find a place that sold cauldrons, robes, potion ingredients, and wands?! Did the professor tell him where to find all these things and he didn’t hear? No… He hadn’t told him, Varian was certain. What a jerk. 

Varian wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t really left, but did a little hocus pocus to merely make it seem like he had. Just to watch Varian squirm for a little bit before he ever so graciously reappeared and told him what he needed to know. 

The professor couldn’t possibly expect an orphaned child to figure everything out on his own and take care of himself. Could he?

He set the envelope and bag down by his side, glancing around the room suspiciously as he did so. That’s when he noticed it. 

The chintz armchair was still there. Furthermore, something appeared to be on it. Varian got up from his bed and ran to the chair excitedly. A few quick steps revealed it to be an old, unfamiliar book. 

He picked it up. The instant he had done so, the chair vanished. 

Varian smirked when he opened the book. Perhaps the wizard wasn’t that heartless after all. The first page contained directions to a ‘Leaky Cauldron’ and a ‘Diagon Alley’ from the orphanage as well as the name and worth of each of those strange coins.

Now the question remains, how will he be able to obtain the things he needs, keep it hidden, and explain his absence? He would need to plan carefully. One wrong move, and he could end up in a psych ward or a mad scientist’s lab or worse! 

He shuddered. No way was he going to let that happen. Not if he could help it. 

Varian turned the page of his new black book and with a click of a pen that mysteriously, no... magically, appeared in his hand, began to write out his simply genius plan.


	2. Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
> 
> Not gonna lie... I had a lot of fun writing this one.

Tom Riddle left the orphanage. He never could stomach all the whining and crying of the younger children. He huffed as he rounded the corner of the street. At least the little brat hadn’t been too annoying. 

He glanced around at his surroundings quickly as he came to a stop by an old telephone booth. A few cars passed by on the street. To be on the safe side, he entered the booth before disapparating.

Riddle appeared quietly on the street junction separating Diagon Alley from Knockturn Alley. He pulled his cloak’s hood up just in the nick of time. A couple magicals with arms full of shopping bags appeared around the corner a second later.

He was curious. Riddle watched the passerby continue on their way. How long would it take for the boy to come? For surely he would. Tom himself had done so, all those years ago. It would disappoint him greatly if the boy decided to cut his entertainment short. 

Riddle looked toward Knockturn Alley. A wicked grin lit up his face. With a wave of his wand, he made himself invisible to even his own eyes.

Varian might not show up for a bit, but when he does…. Tom threw his head back and laughed mischievously, his high cold voice echoing so it sounded as though it were coming from everywhere at once.

Stupid, stupid, stupid plan! Varian berated himself internally. He was dangling out his open third floor bedroom window. He tightened his grip on the flimsy bedsheet. He had tied it to his bedpost and hoped it would suffice. The sheet was way too short though and it was quite a drop to the ground.

Varian really didn’t fancy breaking his legs, but he didn’t want to get caught either. Even if he landed in one piece, how was he going to get back to his room unseen? Carrying magical books and robes, no less!

He was so busted! 

An awful ripping sound distracted him. Varian looked up. There, right where the fabric was bent over the edge of the windowsill, was a slight tear. 

Varian readjusted his hold on the blanket, heart racing. He was going to have to try and climb back up. Think of a new plan. It was either that or wait until he lost his grip and plummeted to his doom.

Varian took a steadying breath. He planted his feet against the wall and slowly started to scale back up. He was halfway when the sheet ripped again. Varian gasped as he lost the few feet he gained. 

His sweaty hands slid down a little on the sheets from the unsettling jolt. Varian could practically feel his heart trying to beat itself out of his chest. 

The bedsheet gave way.

Varian screeched in horror, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he fell. Gravity mercilessly pulled him down. He braced for impact. 

Everything went black.

Tom Riddle frowned. 

It was now evening and there was still no sign of the boy. He ran his palm against his face and sighed. Guess he’d better go and find the stupid brat. He took a few quick paces and disapparated, not bothering to check over his shoulders as he did so. 

Riddle apparated just outside the orphanage’s fence. Still invisible, the first thing he felt was the charged atmosphere. The powerful energy resonated deeply within him. Dark magic.

Riddle inhaled deeply through his nose, eyes closing. He felt an instinctive pull toward the densest part and his eyes automatically fell on a patch of scorched lawn located on the right side of the building. 

How curious.

Riddle walked as though on autopilot toward the large circle of black. The sense of dark magic in the air steadily intensifying as he approached. Closer and closer. 

A flicker in his peripheral vision made him pause. Quick as a flash he whipped around, wand in hand, to see some partially burned fabric flutter in the breeze in a bush nearby. He slowly relaxed his pose, eyes darting from side to side as he did. 

The boy was all but forgotten from his mind. After all, no first year could have done this. Not even with accidental magic. 

Riddle’s eyes narrowed. 

The boy… 

Riddle looked back to the scorched earth. He would have to investigate later. After he confirmed that the foolish child was alive and well. And get his take on the events that took place here. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this all happened on the day he announced to the boy that he was magical. 

His eyes scaled up the building to where the boy’s room was and widened. Right where he thought the brat’s window was -was a piece of torn fabric identical to the one in the bush. Minus the charring. 

Did the boy get attacked by some dark creature? Evidence suggested that he tried to escape, at any rate. The brat had better not had the audacity to die on his watch! 

Dumbledore would just love to use the brat’s death as an excuse to get him fired, wand snapped, and sentenced to life in Azkaban! All his plans ruined! Just as they were coming to fruition. 

Riddle snarled. If some dark beast DID off the brat, well he was going to return the favor- a thousandfold. He would kill it in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. 

Riddle flew like smoke right to the open window of the boy’s room in a fury. He reminded himself to keep his face stoic in case the boy was there and conscious, before dropping down onto the bedroom floor.

He stood up from his crouched position, taking in the surroundings as he did so. Nothing appeared to be out of place. No sign of a struggle. Besides the ripped sheet tied to the bedpost going out the window, the room looked exactly as he left it. 

But where was the boy? 

He cast spells of which only he knew around the room and outside. Nothing. The child wasn’t anywhere on the premises of the orphanage. 

Well that’s just great. 

Riddle groaned. This was not how today was supposed to go. The boy should have gone to Diagon Alley.

He had the directions, money- everything! Why did the child have to wreck his carefully laid plans? He should’ve been done for the day, and now he’s got a missing child case to solve before Dumbledore gets a whiff of it.

His head began to pound and his frustration escaped as fiery sparks from the tip of his wand. He hoped to Salazar that the brat, if found alive, ended up in any house but Slytherin. The less responsibility he had for that blooming pain in the neck, the better. 

Riddle shook his head. What a nightmare. He glanced over the room once more before turning to the window. He looked out at the night sky as he rested his palms on the windowsill. The cool refreshing air swept over his face and into his hair as he sighed. 

Where to begin? 

Varian slowly opened his eyes. Blurred objects slowly came into focus. Hard black marbled walls with green veins surrounded him. There was also a couple of pillars- no an arch- with some silvery liquid-like gas on the inside of the arch. Almost like a silvery veil. 

He sat up and groaned. His body ached all over and his forehead felt like it was on fire. Where was he? 

He grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. Once upright, he dusted himself off and was surprised by a strange sense of deja vu. Varian dismissed the thought quickly. There were more important things. Like figuring out how to get out of… wherever he was. 

Varian turned around in a circle. He appeared to be in a circular room with two doors, besides the arch in the center, and he was standing on some sort of dais. Of course, the doors had no exit labels on them nor gave any indication to where they might lead, to be of any use to him.

Varian scratched his head, thinking. The last thing he could recall was falling from his bedroom window. After that, nothing. What does one do in situations like this? He wished Riddle was here. He’d know some magic spell or something that would bring him back home. 

Varian started to panic. He didn’t like this. He wanted to be back in the orphanage. But how? Riddle didn’t exactly give him an emergency contact number or spell or anything. He’d have to just wait for someone to find and rescue him or try to rescue himself. 

Neither option appealed to him. On the one hand, he could be found by a good person, on the other, he might be found by a bad person. If he tried to find his way home himself, he could possibly do it, on the other hand, he could get even more lost. 

Why does this always happen to him? What did he do? He just wanted everything to go back to normal. He never wanted this. 

His heart rate was accelerating to a point that it was practically thrumming in his chest as he started hyperventilating from the stress and panic. There was a sizzling and crackling in the air. A flash of hot white-blue flame burst out from the boy’s skin and encompassed him. It dispersed a second later leaving behind a circular patch of red hot stone where the boy had previously been.

Six feet up in the air was a magnificent phoenix. It had dark blue, white, and purple plumage with black beady eyes, beak, and claws. The dark phoenix trilled a hauntingly beautiful sound. One might compare it to a siren’s call, so alluring, so enchanting- 

Lightning sparked over the phoenix’s body as it flapped its powerful wings. 

And dangerous.

The dark phoenix flapped its mighty wings once more before soaring downward in a sweeping motion. It made its way along the perimeter of the building, trilling it’s haunting melody all the while. The magical bird’s head turned in the direction of one of the doors briefly. 

Sounds of footsteps and voices were coming from behind it and getting louder. The dark phoenix’s head swiveled to the other door and flapped toward it. Lightning crackled through its body once more. Just as the magical creature approached the opposite door, the first one burst open. 

“What in the-?!” shouted a man.

“What is that?” questioned a young curious female with purple hair.

“Capture it!” a gruff voice and shrill voice screeched.

“Is that a - phoenix?” came from all corners of the room as Ministry of Magic employees filed into the Death Chamber, stunned. 

“Colloportus!” 

The dark phoenix trilled its enchantingly haunting tune again and swooped toward the only exit left as the remaining door became magically locked. Lightning crackled through its plumage as it flapped for the arch. 

“No!” shrieked all the witches and wizards alike. 

But it was too late. 

The dark phoenix breezed through the arch and vanished. The veil fluttered slightly from the wind of its flight and then stilled.

Riddle gave a final sweep of his wand. 

The black patch of earth turned green once more. All evidence of magic erased.

Riddle pocketed his wand, turned on his heel, and headed for the orphanage’s gate.

Now that was taken care of - he could finally start the near impossible task of finding the boy. He’d wasted the better part of an hour obliviating the minds of all those godforsaken orphans and the old pudgy Cromwell woman as it was. Any more time spent in the orphanage and he might just start pulling his own hair out. 

Riddle reached to push the gate open-

Boom!

Thunder shook his very core, the ground- the very air. All at once in the time of a millisecond. Riddle’s heart leapt in his throat. He was afraid to turn around, though he’d never admit it to anyone. Afraid to see how close he came to death by lightning. 

As his heart started to slow and his mind came to terms with his near death experience, he turned. His body was still shaking from the adrenaline and he cursed himself for being so weak. 

His mind came to a jarring halt at the sight before him. A new circular patch of scorched ground lay three feet ahead of him, still flaming at the edges. Though it was a flame of which he’d never seen in nature. It was a white-blue flame rather than the usual shade of yellowish orange. 

Riddle walked closer, intrigued. What magic was this? As he approached, the last of the flames pewtered out. In the center, was a little mound of ashes. Riddle tilted his head a little to the side. 

The ashes shifted. 

Riddle’s eyes widened in shock. 

Up rising from the ashes was a child, and not just any child-the boy…

Riddle, still invisible, watched as the boy sat up, completely covered in soot. The boy-Varian, looked around himself dazedly, eyes skimming right over where Riddle stood hidden. The boy blinked a few times and shook his head, as if to clear it. 

Riddle noticed the moment the boy became aware. Varian had suddenly scrambled to his feet in a panic. Clearly the boy had no control over whatever magic he performed.

At least he no longer had to find the brat now. Although he would have to question the boy later as to where he disappeared to and what in the world just happened. 

Varian woke up and he was so confused. Where was he? Was the whole thing about Riddle and magic and being a wizard a dream? He blinked dazedly around his surroundings. He felt cold for some odd reason. 

Varian gasped and stood up. He was outside the orphanage and covered in soot! It was slowly starting to come back. He had been trying to escape the orphanage through his bedroom window when the sheet ripped and he fell. 

Varian frowned. 

He couldn’t remember anything after the fall. Where did all the ash come from? It was quite dark outside now so some time had passed. Maybe an hour or two? 

Varian groaned. His head hurt and he was cold and miserable. How was he going to explain this to Cromwell? Could this day possibly get any worse? 

“Ahem.” 

Varian nearly jumped out of his skin.

Behind him, materialized Professor Riddle. 

“Varian, Varian, Varian…” tutted the Professor.

“Wherever have you been?” 

“Been?” Repeated Varian.

“Yes. Where. Have. You. Been.” Punctuated Riddle calmly and clearly as he came to a stop right in front of him.

“ I-I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” Riddle tilted his head. “How interesting.”

“I suffer from amnesia. Remember?” Varian said, hunching his shoulders defensively.

“Look me in the eyes.” Riddle suddenly commanded. 

“W-what?” Varian asked although he knew what he heard. 

“Just do it!” Riddle’s voice rang with such authority that Varian complied instantly.

The moment his eyes interlocked with Riddle’s he could feel a strange prodding sensation in his mind. He instinctively brushed it aside like one would a pesky fly and it dispersed. 

Riddle took a step back. His eyes widened in surprise briefly before going back to their neutral expression. 

“What did you just do?” asked Varian, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” came Riddle’s smooth reply. “I’ll help you clean up this mess and keep Cromwell none the wiser of what has occurred here this night.”

Riddle added a little more sternly, “Get some rest. You can always get your school supplies tomorrow. Okay?”

Varian nodded, gratefully.

With that, Riddle swept the boy, who protested mildly, up into his arms, and apparated directly into Varian’s room. He set the boy on his feet and waited for him to get settled in bed. Once settled, Riddle spoke.

“Alright. And Varian?” 

Varian turned to face Riddle.

“I will get to the bottom of this. You can be sure of that.” 

And with that ominous warning, Riddle disapparated from the boy’s room, leaving a stunned Varian behind.

Riddle paced around a dimly lit room. The fireplace crackled merrily in the background. 

The brat was a natural occlumens. Most unusual in an untrained wizard. And there was the whole amnesia thing and the black circles of ash to deal with too. 

Riddle paused in front of the fireplace and crossed his arms. 

And to top it off, Varian hadn’t been lying. He really didn’t know what happened in the two hours he’d been missing. Unraveling this enigma would sure be a challenge. And Riddle was all about solving mysteries. 

Riddle turned his back on the fire and strolled back down the hall.

He wanted... no- needed to know all the magic the world has to offer. For how else would he be able to claim the title of most powerful sorcerer in the world? And claim it he would... soon. 

But for now he must be patient. After all, good things come to those who wait.


	3. Fire in the Hole!

A cloaked figure appeared suddenly and quietly, moving at a brisk pace down the sidewalk. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, turning the clouds various shades of pink, orange, and yellow. The trees and buildings were slowly but surely regaining their colors.

The cloaked figure slowed down as their destination came into sight.

It had been several years and yet the place had barely changed at all. The tall wrought iron gates were exactly the same, but perhaps a bit more rusty. And the building was perhaps a little worse for wear, but that was to be expected.

The figure reached out with their hand to push the gate open, then froze. A few seconds passed in complete silence. Slowly, the figure took their hand back.

The sun had fully risen now. The sounds of birds chirping and engines running could be heard in the distance.

The cloaked figure twisted on the spot and vanished.

* * *

Tom Riddle was having a relatively good morning. He woke up at the crack of dawn, dressed himself in immaculate wizarding robes, combed his hair to perfection, and had eaten a perfectly balanced magical breakfast.

Riddle sat down in his favorite leather armchair and pulled out the latest copy of the Daily Prophet. He pointed a finger carelessly at the dirty dishes on the table, which began to clean themselves at once, before flipping the paper open with both hands and settling down to read.

He reached for his morning cup of coffee and took a few tentative sips. His eyes scanned a few of the headers.

"Nothing interesting today, it seems. 'Importance of cauldron thickness?' That's the best they can come up with?" Riddle rolled his eyes and turned the page. He took another sip of his coffee.

He sprayed the coffee out his mouth onto the paper and his lap. He stood up immediately with a curse. At the same moment, his fireplace lit up with green flames.

"You've got to be joking." Riddle seethed.

"Good morning to you too, Tom." said a calm old voice.

Albus Dumbledore, sporting robes of midnight blue with golden stars, walked out of the fireplace. The flames disappeared the moment he crossed the floor.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Dumbledore?" Riddle smiled, feigning politeness.

"Just curious how you're holding up with the new job, Tom." Dumbledore replied cheerfully.

"I'd prefer if you didn't call me that, sir. It's Professor Riddle, if you could, please." Riddle said through gritted teeth.

"My apologies, as your old teacher, you'll always be young Tom to me, I'm afraid. You'll understand, I'm sure. And here." Dumbledore flicked his wand.

The coffee stains on Riddle's robes and the Daily Prophet vanished.

"Thank you, Dumbledore." Riddle injected as much venom into the thanks as he could.

"You're quite welcome." Replied Dumbledore as chipper as ever.

Tom Riddle wanted to run up and punch him smack in his crooked nose, shake the man, do something to make him crack. He didn't know why, but the old fool just rubbed him the wrong way. It was irrational he knew, but true nonetheless.

Tom Riddle straightened out his robes, wanting something to do with his hands while he decided how best to answer. If he'd known Dumbledore was going to pop in for a visit, he'd have spent some time thinking of a cover story before going to bed.

"It has gone quite well. Varian accepted his position at Hogwarts and he is going to be getting his school supplies today. It took very little convincing that he was a wizard and…" he paused deliberately, waiting for Dumbledore to take the bait.

"And?" Inquired Dumbledore, patiently.

"And I may have... possibly... showed him some magic as proof that this was all real?" Riddle casually shrugged his shoulders. His lips curled up into a smirk as he added slyly,

"Not unlike how you showed me?"

"Ah… I see." Dumbledore nodded his head, understandingly.. "But Tom, I merely lit your wardrobe on fire. I kept it small, and didn't actually burn anything at all."

He added more sternly, "In your case, the very earth was scorched and it spanned quite a large area. Furthermore, there were traces of dark magic all over it."

"You're as omniscient as ever, Dumbledore." Riddle noted sourly, crossing his arms. He hated being scolded by Dumbledore.

"No, merely observant." Dumbledore said simply.

That caught Riddle's attention. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

What did Dumbledore see? What does he know? Was he spying on him?

"What do you mean?" He asked sharply, taking a quick step forward as his arms dropped into fists by his side. Inwardly, Riddle cursed. He thought he'd covered up everything. Did he forget to obliviate one of the orphans?

Dumbledore chuckled and explained, "The ground is still scorched, and the next time you use fiendfyre I'll make sure you're held accountable for your actions."

Tom Riddle wanted to slap himself. Of course! He recalled doing it once, but not the second time. He kept his face carefully blank, however, as Dumbledore was watching closely for his reaction.

Apparently satisfied with what he saw, Dumbledore turned for the fireplace in preparation to leave. His eccentric robes billowed behind him. Once in front of the fireplace he paused, and looked over his shoulder, surveying Tom over his half-moon spectacles.

"This is your one and only warning, Tom. I'm letting you off easy this time. Mostly, since it's my fault you got the idea in your head in the first place."

He turned his head back around and threw some floo powder into the fireplace which lit instantly with green flames.

"Good day, Tom." Said Dumbledore politely as he stepped into the flames.

Tom Riddle saw the old fool's lips move and then he was gone in a whirl of green. He finally relaxed his posture and let out a shaky breath he didn't know he'd been holding. A chuckle escaped Riddle's lips. And then another, until soon his chuckling grew until he had his head thrown back in laughter.

Sometimes he impressed even himself. Coming up with a lie like that so quickly. And the old fool didn't even suspect a thing.

A little while later, after he had calmed down some, he checked the time. It was eight in the morning according to his wizarding watch. Time to go. Riddle grabbed a cloak from his closet, threw it on and departed.

* * *

He was running through corridors and chambers as though his life depended on it. Varian could hear his pursuers gaining distance on him. They were shouting, whether at each other or at him, he couldn't tell. He wasn't going to stop to find out, at any rate. His surroundings began to blur together.

Bright jets of light shot past him of various hues, when suddenly, Varian found himself trapped. He was in a room with an arch and a silvery veil that seemed to be made of both gas and liquid. The bad guys were closing in like jackals...

Varian woke with a gasp and sat up in bed. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Stupid nightmares. He glanced out his window. The sun was beginning to rise. He groaned. No point going back to bed.

Varian got out of bed and got dressed quietly so as not to wake the others. The dream slowly faded away from his memory. He crept out of his room and peered down the hallway. It was deserted. Good. Perhaps he could sneak out for the morning to visit Diagon Alley. With luck, it would take them a while to realize he was missing by which point he should be back.

Varian nodded to himself. But first, some breakfast. He would not leave on an empty stomach. As if on cue, Varian's stomach growled.

"I know, I know." Varian muttered under his breath, patting his belly. He slowly tiptoed his way towards the kitchen.

He opened the refrigerator and took out some orange juice. Shutting the door, he went to the cupboard and grabbed a glass. He poured some juice and put the container back in the fridge. Sipping his glass, he grabbed a couple of slices of bread from the counter and threw it in the toaster.

Varian didn't dare to turn on the TV. The constant sound from that would surely rouse the occupants of the house. He walked around the kitchen table to look out the window instead. He absentmindedly sipped his drink. There was a beauty to waking up at the break of dawn. The peaceful atmosphere, the birds chirping, the fresh, crisp air and-

Varian froze as his eyes caught a flicker of movement. He scanned the scenery more closely. He sat his empty glass down on the table behind him. He leaned forward until his breath started to steam up the window. Nothing seemed to be out of place. He frowned.

Ching!

Varian jumped and whipped around toward the sound. He relaxed as he realized it was just the toaster. He grabbed his toast and buttered it up.

He must have imagined it, Varian concluded. As he ate his toast, he could hear the sounds of movement as people began waking up throughout the house. Finishing up his toast, he hurriedly cleaned up after himself and snuck out the front door.

He jogged for the fence checking over his shoulder as he went. No one appeared to be following him. So far so good. He pushed through the fence quickly and rounded the corner just as it clanged shut.

He did it! Varian internally whooped with glee. What a rush!

He slammed into something hard.

"Oomph!" Varian's breath was knocked out of him.

A few staggering steps back revealed it to be a person. That someone reached up to lower the hood of their cloak. It was-

"Professor Riddle!" Varian wheezed out, rubbing his chest.

"That's my name- don't wear it out." Came Riddle's cheeky reply, not fazed at all from having a kid run into him mere seconds ago.

"What... are you...doing... here?" Varian asked, slightly hunched over with his hands on his knees, as he slowly regained his breathing.

"Checking up on you. I might as well take you to Diagon Alley now, I suppose." Riddle eyed Varian as he finally straightened up.

Riddle crossed his arms and leaned forward so that he was at eye level with the boy.

"That  _ is  _ where you were off to in such a hurry, correct?" Riddle asked condescendingly. His lips curled into a devilish smirk.

" Um, yeah...I-" Varian began, the heat rising to his face, but Riddle had already turned around and set off at a brisk pace.

"Hey, wait! Wait up!" Varian's voice echoed around the empty surrounding area. He hurried to catch up with him, every two strides of his matching one of Riddle's.

Riddle ignored him.

Varian grew increasingly frustrated as Riddle continued to get farther and farther away from him. Clearly, not caring at all that Varian had fallen behind. He wished he could do something that would make Riddle stop, to catch his attention.

Varian stopped in his tracks as an idea popped in head.

He brought his hands up in front of him and concentrated. Riddle was nearing the end of the block and would soon be out of his sight. Varian had one shot at this.

Yes!

A few sparks shot in the center of his palms before blazing balls of blue-white fire came to life in his hands. Varian smiled, then wound up his arm before throwing one of the fireballs right at Riddle. For extra measure, he called out "Hey Riddle! Where's the fire?"

The ball of flame hit Riddle, not in the square of his back, as Varian had intended. But rather, a little bit lower than that. Varian gasped in horror as Riddle, whose rear end was aflame, whipped around, a curious red gleam in his eyes.

" _ Varian..."  _ Riddle spoke in a silky voice. Varian hurriedly hid his other hand behind his back, willing the remaining fireball to disappear. Too late. Riddle had seen. He'd seen  _ everythin _ g.

Not thinking twice, Varian turned around and ran, his survival instincts kicking in. Suddenly, Riddle was right in front of him. Varian yelped as Riddle grabbed a tight hold of his arm.

Everything went black around him and he felt as if his body was being squeezed through a very tight, narrow tube. He struggled to breathe. A second later and the horrible sensation lifted.

Varian opened his eyes to see his entire surroundings had changed. He didn't get much time to register details other than he was in a random dark alley when Riddle slammed into the side of a brick building.

"Did no one ever tell you that if you play with fire, you're going to get burned?" Riddle asked angrily, extinguishing the fire with a snap of his fingers. "If you were in school right now, I'd have every right to give you detention for a  _ week _ ."

Varian was stunned. " I- I didn't think-" he got cut off. Or rather, his mouth was moving, but he could no longer make sound come out of his mouth. Varian's eyes shot up in surprise.

"No, you didn't think. That much is clear." Riddle interrupted. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"To top it off, you did magic, deliberate  _ magic _ , right in the open where potentially anyone could have seen." Riddle continued, keeping the silencing spell on the boy.

"We only have one rule regarding muggles, and  _ you _ almost BROKE it. It should've been obvious.  _ Keep our existence a secret.  _ Got it _ ?"  _ Riddle growled. He ended the silencing spell so as to hear the boy's answer.

"Yes. I understand." Varian answered obediently a slight quiver in his voice. He was in a state of complete shock. He should've known there'd be rules to the use of magic. Just as there were rules to everything else in life.

Riddle let go of him. Varian rubbed his shoulders. "Now that we got  _ that _ straightened out, we may continue our journey. Grab hold of my arm." Riddle ordered.

Varian hesitated. Then he reached cautiously for Riddle's proffered left arm. "Hold on tight." Riddle added. Together, they vanished into the unknown.

* * *

Riddle was bored. It had been a couple hours since he'd unleashed the boy in Diagon Alley. He was currently sitting outside, drumming his fingers on the table as he watched the child run from one store to the next with pure delight on his face. He barely registered when a person walked up to his table.

"Have you decided?" Florean Fortescue asked.

"I'll take chocolate, two scoops, in a bowl. Thanks." Riddle ordered, turning his head to give Fortescue a charming smile. Fortescue smiled back and spoke. " By the way. congratulations on your new post, Tom Riddle. You'll do great, I know it."

"Why, thank you Fortescue." Riddle replied smugly. He was just glad that the board of governors made those kinds of decisions or he wouldn't have received it. Dumbledore would have made sure of that.

"Too bad about the headmaster, though." Fortescue continued conversationally. He began scooping up the chocolate ice-cream.

"Yeah, too bad." Riddle quietly agreed.

"Know who's going teach Transfiguration now Dumbledore's temporarily taken over the duties of Headmaster?" Fortescue asked curiously. He handed Riddle his bowl of ice-cream.

"We've had a few applicants for the job, but I think he's going to settle on this one witch in particular. Minerva McGonagall, if I recall." Riddle took a bite of the cold ice-cream, savoring the sweet flavor.

"Ah yes. Pleasant woman. A bit strict, but that'll make her a good teacher." Fortescue nodded to himself and then noticed a few kids eyeing the ice-cream menu.

"Well, I'd better get back to work. Nice talking to you, Riddle." He made his way behind the ice-cream cart to take the kids orders.

Riddle continued to eat his ice-cream, throwing out a galleon on the table. He spotted Varian, who was laden with books and robes galore but smiling like Christmas had come early.

Finally. Riddle got up from the table and met the kid halfway. "Are you done shopping, then?" He asked.

"Yeah, this place is amazing! Can't I stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the summer? Please?" Varian was practically jumping up and down in his excitement.

Riddle rolled his eyes.

"As much as I understand, unfortunately no." Riddle paused, before adding, "Unless someone adopts you and is okay with spending the money for it, it's not happening. You need to go back to the orphanage."

Varian pouted.

"Here, let me organize your stuff and then we'll go." Riddle magicked Varian's things into a trunk. He then shrunk the trunk until it was small enough to fit into a pocket. He tossed the mini trunk to Varian, who caught it one handed, mouth wide open.

"You got to show me how to do that someday." Varian rolled the trunk around his fingers and tossed it a couple times before pocketing it.

"We'll see." Riddle stated simply with a shrug of his shoulders, acting cool. He was preening on the inside though. He offered his arm to the boy, who took it at once this time. No hesitation. Riddle twisted on the spot.

Riddle and Varian appeared directly inside Varian's room. They had barely registered their new surroundings when a voice came out of the darkness.

"Hello,  _ Riddle _ . I believe you have something I want." The light flicked on.


	4. Stranger Danger!

"Hello,  _ Riddle _ . I believe you have something I want." The light flicked on revealing an old, deranged looking man with gray hair sitting on a black leather armchair.

Varian tensed up beside Riddle as he felt the ancient wizard's magical aura. It was perhaps as equally dark and powerful as Riddle's but with a distinctly different feel to it. Like the difference between drowning and burning to death. Both deadly, but completely different experiences.

"If what you want is my eternal servitude, then you are wasting your time." Riddle sneered.

"What a pity." The old man didn't seem disappointed nor surprised by this revelation. "You'd have made an excellent addition to my army. Strong…  _ Powerful _ …" The aged wizard stood up. The leather armchair disappeared.

The elderly wizard tutted, interlocking his fingers behind his back. "Though not too bright, if you think you can oppose me."

Riddle snarled, tightening his grasp on his wand. Green sparks shot sporadically out its tip.

Varian sidestepped away from the sparks and hid behind Riddle. Riddle was going to have a lot of explaining to do. He peeked around Riddle's side.

"Aw, did I ruffle your feathers?" said the old wizard condescendingly, mouth quirking up in a crooked smile. Riddle opened his own mouth, to say what, Varian didn't hear.

Someone covered his mouth from behind and pulled him back, away from Riddle. Varian struggled, but then froze as a dagger was pressed against his jugular. A sickly sweet, mock baby voice whispered in his ear. "There, there. We don't want to cause a scene, now do we?"

* * *

"Are you here to kill me, then?" Riddle asked, wand raised, ready to strike.

"Oh, goodness no," the other wizard chuckled before continuing, "I need you alive… for  _ now _ ." The older man's eyes glittered with unbridled excitement. Riddle's eyes narrowed but he said nothing, keeping his stance; prepared to attack at a moment's notice.

"Where is the resurrection stone?" Grindelwald inquired, when Riddle didn't move to speak.

Riddle's brows rose high in surprise. His wand arm began to tremble.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused, yet guarded.

"Don't play games with me, son. I know you have it." The old man thrust out his left hand, palm up.

"Now hand it over!" Grindelwald demanded, patience rapidly dwindling at Riddle's less than stellar cooperation.

Riddle laughed. It was a high, cold mirthless laugh that seemed quite out of place on his handsome face.

"Like you would just take it and go. Besides..." He looked amusedly at Grindelwald's stony expression. "Even if you are right, why would I give it to  _ you _ when I can keep something so clearly important and special..." Riddle paused briefly, casting a wicked grin in Grindelwald's direction.

"For myself?"

Grindelwald, whose face had been steadily darkening with Riddle's every word, smiled widely. "That…" he darkly intoned, "was the  _ wrong _ answer." His eyes flashed to a point off to the side and behind Riddle.

"Bella." Grindelwald called softly, curling his fingers in a come hither motion.

A high pitched voice cackled with laughter from behind.

Startled, Riddle leaped sideways, wand pointed briefly at the source of the sound as he backed up, trying to put as much distance between him and them as he could. A difficult feat, considering it was a rather small bedroom. Riddle flicked his eyes wildly around until quite suddenly, his feet came to an abrupt halt.

He had backed himself against the window.

A young witch with wild, curly black hair grinned at him as she revealed herself at last. She had Varian trapped in front of her, the back of his head pinned against her chest and one hand over his mouth rendering him speechless.

Stupid disillusionment charm.

Riddle wondered briefly why the brat wasn't trying to pry her hand off when he saw her other hand was curled around a dagger. A dagger, which was poised at Varian's neck. Ready to kill.

It was so Bella... A simple Killing Curse would do, but not for her. No... She has to play with her food before she eats it. He grimaced, already imagining having to clean up her mess and what story would be best to explain the boy's sudden disappearance from the orphanage while under his guardianship.

Riddle was reluctantly impressed as he looked from her to Grindelwald and back.

He'd taught Bellatrix Black well.

"Now, no more games!" Grindelwald snapped.

Riddle focused back on Grindelwald. "The resurrection stone has been in your family line for generations! So give me the resurrection stone NOW, or the child dies!" Grindelwald snapped his fingers and Bellatrix pressed the dagger harder against the boy's throat.

Varian's eyes widened in shock and fear, his muffled sounds of protest filling the room. Bella shushed him, but Riddle paid them no mind. He gritted his teeth, trying to think of a way to defuse the tension.

"Do you by any chance mean the  _ sorcerer's _ stone?" he asked, trying to turn the discussion towards reason. He knew nothing about any resurrection stone, least of all one in his family's possession.

Was the old man completely off his rocker?

"No! The resurrection stone from the Tale of the Three Brothers!" Grindelwald shouted angrily. He was looking more deranged and ancient by the second. His face was transitioning colors quickly from pale pink to blotchy red.

"Never heard of it." Riddle stated in a deceivingly cool, calm tone.

Which was the truth, he hadn't.

But if there was to be a fight, and soon, then he must be the one to strike first. If he didn't, the brat would die. Thus while he'd surely win the forthcoming battle, he'd ultimately lose the war. Riddle barely contained his grimace at the thought, keeping his eyes and wand trained on the mad old fool before him. All his hard work would be for nothing if the boy died and that is just unacceptable.

Grindelwald looked like he was either going to spontaneously combust in his rage or have a heart attack, Riddle wasn't sure which, before he growled out.

"One year. You have one year to find the resurrection stone and give it to me."

Grindelwald nodded toward Bella who pouted, but let Varian go with a push. He stumbled forward a few paces before regaining his footing.

"Playtime's over, sweetcheeks." She winked, stowing away the knife and then pulling out a scarlet colored feather from an outer pocket in her robes.

"Beat you later!" Bella called out in a mad sing-song voice before disappearing in a burst of fire.

Varian yelped at the close proximity of the flames and scrambled backward away from the flames, toward Riddle. Grindelwald continued as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"If at the end of the year, you have not found the stone. Have not given it to me. Then I shall track down all you hold dear…" 

Grindelwald locked eyes with Riddle.

"And destroy them. One. By. One." He jerked his head toward Varian.

"Starting with him." he finished with relish, eyes betraying his madness.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Riddle saw Varian shudder at the threat. 

Riddle snorted. Typical. 

But a seed of doubt and fear crept into his heart. He couldn't know, could he? 

Impossible. Nobody had ever known. It was just a generic 'do this or else that' statement. 

Nothing more to read into it than that, he mentally reassured himself. He readjusted his grip on his wand, his hand now sweaty.

"You're a psychopath." Varian suddenly declared, catching Riddle off guard. Was the brat trying to get himself killed?

Grindelwald blinked, then shot back. "I know I am, but what are you?"

Riddle's brows furrowed. "You do  _ know _ that's not how that…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Nevermind."

Grindelwald's patience had finally run out. He jabbed a finger at Riddle's face and yelled. "One year, Riddle!"

Riddle could do nothing but watch, eyes wide in surprise, as Grindelwald twisted on the spot a split second later. The air seemed to become warped for a few seconds.

Riddle cursed and jumped into action, casting a quick shield charm around himself and the boy.

Not a moment too soon.

The internal pressure of the apparition point released in a powerful burst of energy akin to an explosion. The mirror cracked and the bedroom window and drinking glass shattered. The shield emitted a deep ominous gonglike note but was otherwise unharmed.

Riddle winced as he lowered his wand, shield dissipating as he did so, and surveyed the damage the blast had caused. Grindelwald rested the boy's case. He just disapparated through his own anti-apparition ward to show off his power at the expense of hurting himself.

Quite unnecessary.

Riddle looked toward Varian. He was standing near the now broken window, mouth agape and staring at the spot Grindelwald had previously occupied.

Riddle rolled his eyes.

Well, it looked like a fight with Grindelwald would be inevitable now. Unless he was so fortunate that the madman died before the year was up. His lips tugged up into a smile at the thought.

He could always hope.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he moved to stand in front of the boy.

He reached out and gave Varian's shoulder a slight shake.

Varian startled. He looked away from the patch of floor and focused on Riddle.

Riddle looked him over. "You alright?" He asked, noting a thin line cut across Varian's neck. Beads of blood were starting to bubble up to the surface.

"Yeah, I'm alright." Varian mumbled. He glanced back to the spot and then down at his feet.

Riddle deduced he was still trying to process what had happened. He couldn't blame him for that. The wound at least didn't seem to be life-threatening. Riddle turned his attention to the wreckage that was the boy's bedroom and sighed. Could this day get any worse?

_ Thunk  _

Riddle closed his eyes.

Then he turned around and opened them to see the boy lying unconscious on the floor, oddly still.

Riddle froze and stared hard at the boy. He detected no motion from the brat whatsoever. 

Alarmed, Riddle crept slowly toward Varian, his eyes drawn automatically to the boy's neck. The cut still looked the same but a narrowing suspicion drew at the back of his mind.

Quick as a flash, he put a homeostasis spell on the boy and gave the room one sweep of his wand. The broken pieces of glass and everything else that was damaged in the explosion went flying through the air and back where they belonged, fitting themselves together like pieces of a puzzle before becoming whole once more.

Not skipping a beat, Riddle rushed over to the boy's side, floorboards creaking as he went.

"If you die on my watch, I'll kill you brat! So help me, I will!" Riddle threatened.

The brat made no remark to the threat of course. He hadn't expected him to, but still...

Riddle let out a sound of frustration, moving his hands through his hair, trying to think. He briskly paced the room a couple times, then shook his head.

"If I lose my job over you, I'll kill you." he muttered, mind made up, as he crouched down.

He scooped the boy up with a grunt, staggering a little as he did so.

Riddle adjusted his grip on the boy.

And disapparated.

* * *

Varian was very warm and comfortable. 

Voices murmured softly nearby. Varian groaned and turned over trying to tune the sounds out. He was just so comfy on this heavenly bed made of clouds. 

Bright lights flicked on overhead.

Varian jerked the sheets over his head, instinctively burying himself further into the darkness and warmth. He heard someone sigh.

"Aguamenti." 

Cold water soaked him from his head to his toes. The sheets, now heavy with water weight, clung to him like a second skin. Varian's eyes popped open with shock as he yowled, scrambling to get out of the freezing cold.

He rolled off the bed, falling gracelessly to the floor with a thump. He sat up quickly, glaring daggers at Riddle who was leaning quite casually against the far wall, one foot crossed in front of the other. The bastard smirked then spoke with faux surprise. 

"Sleeping Beauty awakens!" 

Varian opened his mouth to retort when a screech sounded against the floor from the opposite side of the room. He looked toward the sound.

A red haired woman in long white robes rose from behind a wooden desk, a clipboard and quill in her hands.

"Pardon my interruption, but I have a busy schedule and must be along so…" 

She paused, consulting her clipboard.

"How are you feeling, today?" she asked him in a professionally detached tone. 

"Like a drowned cat." He blurted out without thinking.

Varian shook his head quickly to dispel as much water as he could from his hair, emphasizing his point. 

The woman looked up from her clipboard in mild surprise. Her gaze zoomed briefly over his face before she rounded on Riddle.

"You dry him off right now! If he catches cold or goes into hypothermic shock, I'll…" She paused, drawing herself up to her full height. "I'll-"

"Be at a loss for words?" Interjected Riddle smoothly, smirking deviously as she was caught off guard, but flicking his wand in Varian's direction nonetheless.

Varian's clothes and hair were instantly dried and he felt warm once more. 

He looked toward the beautiful woman, grateful. 

"Thanks miss, uh…" he blushed as she turned her gaze to him. Her almond shaped green eyes softened. 

"Potter." She answered, politely. His blush deepened and he ducked his head down, embarrassed.

She whipped her head back around to glare at Riddle who met her gaze head on. Challenging. 

After what felt like an eternity, she humphed, breaking the eye contact. She swung around so her back was to him. Her dark red hair cascaded around her face as she turned. 

She took a steadying breath, closing her eyes for a second, before speaking.

"Well, Varian. How are you feeling now? Do you have any pain or blurry vision, for instance?"

"N-No." Varian stammered, his blush returning full force. 

She smiled and jotted something down on her clipboard, before continuing. 

"Well then, I say you're good to go. I just need a parent or guardian to sign your discharge papers." Both of their eyes went to Riddle at the same time. 

Riddle rolled his eyes, but held out his hand and accepted the papers the young witch gave him. 

It was silent for a while, with nothing but the sounds of a scratching quill to be heard. 

You're a rather lucky young man, you know." Stated Ms. Potter abruptly, breaking the silence.

Varian who'd been staring around absentmindedly startled. His mind was still blank as he whipped his head around to look at her. "Huh?"

"If Riddle hadn't acted so quickly… well…" She looked conflicted, biting her lower lip. The scratching sounds had stopped. 

Riddle handed her back the papers. She grabbed them without looking at Riddle, as though on autopilot. Her green eyes stuck to Varian like glue.

Suddenly her posture changed and her eyes took on a hard, resolved look. She took a step forward and leaned down until her lips were at his ear level.

"You take care of yourself now." She murmured quietly, her hot breath tickling his ear. 

A beeping sound went off in her pocket. Her free hand shot down into her pocket and withdrew a small device. She pressed a button and it stopped. 

"I have to go." She fast walked to the door, slipping the device back in her pocket as she went.

Halfway through the door she paused and spoke, looking at Riddle.

"I don't care if you saved his life or that you got a special award for the school in your youth." She took in a breath, before continuing.

"Nor do I care that you were once my professor. There is something about you…" 

She paused, putting a finger to her chin, deliberating for a moment before pointing at Riddle. 

"You have a mean streak and I don't like it."

Finished, she continued on her way, nose in the air, and red hair swaying behind her.

"Goodie two shoes." Riddle sneered softly, crossing his arms as he watched her leave. 

"I heard that!" Came her voice from somewhere out of sight, probably down the hall.

Varian laughed.

Riddle pinned him with a look and he stopped at once. He could no longer hear her footsteps. Ms. Potter was gone.

Riddle jerked his head toward the door. "You heard her. Time to go." He stepped away from the wall he'd been leaning against and proffered his arm to Varian. 

"No!" Varian shouted. Riddle eyes narrowed for a split second. Then he smiled, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He took a deliberate step forward, a predator about to catch his prey.

Varian backed up on the floor in response.

"No?" Riddle inquired in a silky smooth voice that sent chills down Varian's spine. He gulped. 

"Varian, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before school starts this year." Riddle promised, prowling closer.

Varian panicked, heart racing. 

"I just want to know what happened!" He spouted out quickly.

Riddle stopped his advance and gave Varian a calculating look. 

" What do you remember?" Riddle asked, tilting his head a little to the side as he did so. 

Varian scrambled to his feet, Riddle's eyes followed the motion. "Umm…" he thought for a bit, scratching his head. 

" We went to Diagon Alley, I got my school things and… we went back to my room." He gasped. 

"There was a crazy old man waiting for us and then a woman captured me from behind. She had a dagger to my throat." Varian rubbed at the spot absentmindedly.

He could remember it all so clearly now, the blast of fire as she left and the explosion that was the old man's departure. 

He focused back on Riddle. 

"They left, and I don't remember anything after that." He took in a breath, and asked, "Why don't I remember anything after that?"

Riddle who'd been listening silently with rapt attention nodded to himself then spoke. 

"Because you fell unconscious, having been poisoned with a dagger imbibed with basilisk venom." Riddle stated matter of factly. 

Varian's eyes widened in shock. His mouth dropped open. Riddle nodded solemnly.

"You would have been dead if St. Mungo's hadn't had some Phoenix tears in stock. It's the only antidote and it's incredibly rare." 

Riddle's expression soured like if he just bit into a lemon. 

"It's also incredibly expensive." 

Varian scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. "Right, thank you for that." He mumbled.

Riddle watched him, his head cocked to one side. 

If Varian didn't know better, he'd guess Riddle was trying to determine if he was dumb, stupid, or dumb. 

Varian's eyes widened in dawning horror and comprehension. 

"I'm indebted to you now, aren't I? Why does this stuff always happen to me?" Varian cried in frustration, running his fingers through his silver hair and clenching it in his fists. 

He froze, letting go of his hair. Varian stared hard at Riddle. 

"Why did you save me? I'm a nobody. I'm not worth however much those Phoenix tears cost. So why help me?" 

Riddle, for his part, merely shrugged his shoulders. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Varian asked, angrily now. 

"What, I can't just save a person out of the goodness of my heart?" Riddle asked lightly, his demeanor one of complete innocence. 

"If it was anyone else, I would have believed that, but not you." Varian shook his head. 

"Clever boy." Riddle purred, his eyes taking on a dangerous gleam. "Why did I save you, you ask? Well…"

He moved until he was right in front of Varian and leaned in close. 

Varian stopped breathing. He became acutely aware of his heart pounding in his chest. 

"That's for me to know, and you…" Riddle whispered in his ear.

Varian wouldn't be surprised if Riddle could hear his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. They were so close.

"To never find out." 

Varian exhaled a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.

Riddle pulled back, the warning in his eyes clear. Varian's ear felt cool with the sudden loss of Riddle's warm breath. 

Without warning, Riddle snatched one of his arms and twisted on the spot. Varian barely refrained from crying out in surprise. And then they were gone, leaving St. Mungo's behind.

  
  



End file.
